


Seasons of Love

by Sam I Am (Sam_I_Am89)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 17:48:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1908138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_I_Am89/pseuds/Sam%20I%20Am
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every Season reminds him of Sirius...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seasons of Love

_In daylights, in sunsets, in midnights, in cups of coffee,_

_In inches, in miles, in laughter and strife..._

_In Five hundred, twenty-five thousand, six hundred minutes; how do you measure a year in the life?_

_How about love? How about love? How about love? Measure in Love..._

“Seasons of Love” ~ ‘Rent’ the musical

~~~ * ~~~

 

It was Autumn.

The season of fresh air and new beginnings. The season of harvesters droning, sharpened quills and bonfire smoke...

It rose up in plumes through the canopy, dyed orange by the flames beneath, thick and heady. The smell of wood burning was enough to make you feel slightly giddy even before taking into account the two boys dancing like demons around it. Their legs were unsteady, their laughter loud, their silhouettes somehow even taller and ganglier than they were themselves.

He noticed for the first time that the Guy they’d made out of James’ old robes (too short at the wrists and ankles) and stuffed full of Peter’s History of Magic notes, (more erroneous than Sirius’ who’d admittedly spent the lessons writing gruesome fairytales) had developed a scraggly black wig and a rather unfortunate nose...

Remus’ book had long since been forgotten and he took the sparkler that Peter held out towards him, gloved hands tingling with some remembered childhood excitement. One of the streaming silhouettes jumped on the other, the other howling surprised and the one cackling evilly as they tumbled to the leaf-littered floor. The trees creaked in protest at the disturbance. Remus just smiled as he watched his best friends, watched Sirius and James, somehow still galloping around like five-year-olds on a sugar high.

Silently, he told the trees, ‘ _Let him laugh...’_

And Sirius glanced over at him, waving with his mismatched mittens.

It was Autumn. The season of Sirius with leaves in his hair...

~~~ * ~~~

 

It was Winter. The season of Christmas tree green and warm mugs of cocoa. The season of visible breath, partridges in pear trees and shimmering stars...

They poured over the guests as the countdown began, glittering confetti that was captured in strands of hair and the gaps between robes and skin. Everyone was shouting the numbers at the top of their lungs; James, dark hair erratic, jumped recklessly on a table, dragging Lily up besides him, ready to conduct a drunken chorus of Auld Lang Syne. Lily’s dress-robes were purple and her rust-red freckles shivered on her nose as she sang in the New Year elatedly, knowing the marriage it would bring.

Remus’ date had long since been abandoned and he hung back, near a corner, swigging at half-warm beer. He watched as Sirius stomped his booted feet and threw back his head, a few strands of hair, black as sin, curling against his neck. The countdown neared its end with jealous finality. Remus felt his smile fail as the bells began to ring out on January 1st, James kissed Lily with ardent ease and Sirius raised his bottle towards them, most of its contents having been spilt in the blissful chaotic dance he maintained.

Silently, he told the clock chimes, _‘Let him dance...’_

And Sirius grabbed his arm, somehow suddenly beside him, and leant close to his ear, saying with a fond smile, ‘Happy New Year, Moony.’

It was Winter. The season of Sirius with fireworks in his eyes...

~~~ * ~~~

 

It was Spring. The season of rain clouds and daisy chains. The season of rabbit-shaped milk chocolate monstrosities, feather dusters and fluffy dandelion seeds...

He blew them off the stalk into the gurgling baby’s face; green eyes scrunched shut in surprise. Remus laughed, but it died on his lips as Sirius pulled another dandelion from behind his back. For a moment, eyes met and he felt stifled with Harry’s warm wriggling form sat against his chest. Sirius grinned warmly before with a puff of air, he, like little Harry, was surrounded by fuzzy parasols. He laughed too, spitting a few strays from his lips and attempting a glare, but Sirius, warmth and bright eyes, took his godson and lay down on the blanket, Harry at arms length.

Remus’ inhibitions had long since been discarded and he lay down beside the man, Harry contrasting against the changing clouds, swing chains clinking and squeaking nearby. Perfect flying conditions for Quidditch, he thought wryly. Time drifted; dandelion seeds on the breeze. Dark-haired godson nestled with his rosy cheek pressed against navy cotton, Sirius dozed. A pair of Rottweilers across the park began barking, clearly contemptuous of the proverb about their sleeping kin.

Silently, he told the dogs, ‘ _Let him sleep...’_

And Sirius cracked open a bleary eye, glancing at the baby drooling on his chest and at Remus for a few seconds before drifting off again with a rumbling contented sigh.

It was Spring. The season of Sirius with fists in his t-shirt...

~~~ * ~~~

 

It was Summer. The season of bleaching heat and yellow grass. The season of charred sausages, growling lawnmowers and dinner gone cold...

It sat on a plate by the microwave as Sirius wasn’t home. Every meal was thrown away these days; Sirius had the money to be careless with groceries and the obstinacy to forget the duty of friendship. The blistering sun, too hot for the last days of August, had lead to blistering arguments and secrets only shared with some, a vicious circle spinning out of control. The situation was as desperate as Remus was at trying to prevent it coming between them. A key scraping in the lock did not cause him to turn; neither did the familiar thunk of Sirius’ boots being kicked off in the hall. He entered the kitchen, eyes filled with aching aging guilt, but Remus did not see.

Remus’ hope had long since been extinguished and he continued to scrub a pan, although the water was long cold. When complicated silence reigned, as he had expected, he heard Sirius pad back out of the kitchen. Remus flicked his wand at the pan, drying it instantly, and then placed it in its cupboard. His pulse trembled with selfish dread of loneliness.

Silently, he told his heartbeat, _‘Let him leave...’_

And Sirius returned, pressing him urgently against the refrigerator at the thigh, the shoulder and the mouth as if struggling to stay silent. It was Summer. The season of Sirius with apologies on his tongue...

~~~ * ~~~

 

It was Autumn. The season of smouldering wreckage and vanquished evil. The season of losing custody, sleepless nights and tears on the newspaper print...

They fell, shattered and spread, ‘traitor’ melting into ‘Pettigrew’. The photo of Godric’s Hollow, raized to the ground, was strangely motionless and Sirius’ face, blinking with the flash, was strangely calm. Today, five years ago, they’d been building their bonfire in the Forbidden Forrest, swigging pilfered Sea Hag Rum and roasting marshmallows; Sirius and James had been wrestling in the blood-red leaves.

Today, five years ago, Remus had realised that everything reminded him of Sirius.

Today, five years later, he still does not admit what that could mean.

It was Autumn. And without Sirius around, he forgot the seasons after that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and please leave some comments below!


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